


I wish I knew how to quit you

by nishiki



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Church Sex, Ivar is a little devil, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Public Blow Jobs, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: Bishop Heahmund is a man of God - yet, he finds himself unable to resist temptation time and time again.
Relationships: Heahmund/Ivar (Vikings)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	I wish I knew how to quit you

**Author's Note:**

> This one was made for the 1k celebration event on Youbloodymadgenius on Tumblr. Congrats, Darling!

May the Lord have mercy on him. Whenever Bishop Heahmund would close his eyes, there he was - that wretched young man that so easily claimed his sanity every time their eyes would meet across the pews. The first time they had met, the boy’s own father had brought him to church and all but thrust him into Heahmund’s hands, desperate that someone might get through that thick skull of his youngest child. Some petty crime had almost sent the lad to jail had it not been for his father pulling some strings behind the scenes that once again saved his kid. For Heahmund, it had been the beginning of the end. 

Idle fingers danced over the back of his neck and made him jolt in surprise. Inside the church it was chilly and quiet and, for a second, he was convinced that he had only dreamed the touch on his exposed skin. Even before he turned away from the large stained glass window that was right behind the stone altar and cast the entire room into oranges and magentas when the sun would shine on it to look over his shoulder, however, he knew that it wasn’t so.

“A penny for your thoughts, Bishop.” Ivar’s voice was soft as he spoke to him, quiet enough so that it would not echo from the stone walls around them - not like last night when his moans had filled the church, his screams an angelic choir in Heahmund’s ears. He had not even heard him coming towards the altar. The last he had seen of Ivar, the boy had done his duty and cleaned up something in the vestry. As he turned around to look at the young man and how he was sitting in his wheelchair, looking up at him out of those mischievous blue eyes, all he could think about was how Ivar had been lying on that very same altar, a lamb ready for the slaughter as Heahmund had forgone all morale, all decency and desecrated his own church to worship Ivar’s body instead. Now, the boy’s fingers were clasped almost innocently in his lap.

“This can not continue,” He said calmly but Ivar’s face remained motionless, his eyes unblinking as he looked at him. The hint of a smile flashed over his face as if he knew that Heahmund would never be able to go through with this. And, he’d be damned, but it was true. 

Instead of saying something, however, Ivar grabbed his left hand and, without making sure that no one was here to watch them, pulled it towards him, towards his mouth. He watched in horror and growing arousal, how Ivar parted his lips, his wicked tongue slipping out before he lapped at Heahmund’s fingers, never breaking eye contact with the bishop as he did. By now, Heahmund was sure that Ivar had to be an incubus sent by the devil himself to test him, and Heahmund - God help him - was failing and failing and failing. He knew that he should pull back. He knew he should step away from Ivar, that he should say something - instead, he watched how Ivar sucked two of his fingers into his mouth and closed his eyes with a groan as he felt his tongue circling his skin. Already, blood was shooting into his groin, already, his cock was straining against his black trousers. 

It was so easy to imagine that it was not his fingers in Ivar’s mouth and only as he felt Ivar’s quick fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt, did Heahmund sprung back into action again. He pulled his fingers out of Ivar’s mouth, horrified by his own lustful nature, his own weakness in the face of this demon. Ivar, however, grinned.

“We are alone, Heahmund,” Ivar whispered, his voice low with unbridled arousal, dark with promises of pleasure to come if Heahmund would just allow him to. “No one can see us here…”

It was true, the dark voice in the back of his head chimed up. The heavy stone altar would be hiding Ivar from sight. He needed to be stronger. He knew he should be stronger. And yet, were not all men sinners in the eyes of the Lord? Were not other men of the cleric doing worse things than he did? Was it really so wrong to indulge in this sin with this wicked young man? Was he really selling his soul to the devil every time he would allow Ivar to push him over the edge? He was helpless against him. He had been helpless against him the first moment their eyes had met. 

“I wish I knew how to quit you…” Heahmund heard himself whisper and that was all the invitation Ivar needed. 

Within seconds, his belt was opened by clever fingers, the zipper and button were undone, cold air was brushing over his stiff cock before supple lips closed around his shaft eagerly. He watched, mesmerized how his cock disappeared between those lips, felt how Ivar’s tongue licked his burning flesh with skilled ease and shameless expertise, saw how he hollowed his cheeks to suck greedily. All Heahmund could do was grab fistfuls of the man’s hair, pulling it free from the bun he wore it in, unable to keep his hands to himself. Not for the first time he wondered how Ivar knew how to do this. Not for the first time he imagined where this boy’s wickedness came from. This boy who could look as innocent as an angel when he would be sitting in the pews on Sunday next to his father and brothers - the picture-perfect image of a devout Christian, of a man who had left his path of crime to return to the arms of God.

He grabbed his hair tighter, pulled at it roughly but never got any sign of protest from the other man. If anything, his rough ministrations only spurred Ivar on. Once more, in his head, he was thrust back to last night, back to Ivar lying on the altar, his legs dangling over the edge as Heahmund had thrust into him with vigor. He could still hear Ivar’s cries of pleasure echoing in his head as Heahmund bit down hard on his own bottom lip to suppress his shuddering groans as he pushed Ivar’s head harder against himself. When he came the young man was all but forced to swallow his release before Heahmund let go of him. A bitter voice in the back of his head said that this devil deserved nothing less for coming into his church and seducing a man of the church like this.

He was weak against temptation. He had always been weak in the face of temptation but never had this been more evident than right now as he let go of Ivar’s hair and allowed his lover to lean back again, his cock sliding out of Ivar’s mouth spent and limp while Ivar just looked up at him, this wicked grin on his lips that he had fallen for months ago when Ragnar Lothbrok had entered his church, hoping that Heahmund might guide his troubled son.

“We both know, Bishop Heahmund,” Ivar then said as he licked his lips clean. “you don't really want that.”


End file.
